The Replacement
by RhiannonNymph
Summary: Dean and Sam came back to their hotel room one day, and it isn't Castiel waiting for them. And it never will be again. Yeah, Dean has a problem with that. Rated for language. Spoilers: Up to 4.18
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: **Once more, I own nothing. Except Micah. Everyone and everything else belongs to Kripke and those dastardly writers of his.

**SPOILERS: **Anything up to 'The Monster at the End of This Book'.

**A/N - **Some bad words and maybe a slightly blasphemous and/or offensive mention of what Jesus might do on the weekends... so… yeah. Oh, and some taking of His name in vain. Man, that's like a one way ticket, isn't it?

Thanks to siriuslyyellow, my awesome beta who thinks Jensen and Misha love her more than me. Pfst. As if. ;)

Enjoy.

* * *

**THE REPLACEMENT**

Throughout the last six months of his life… or the first six, depending on how you looked at it, Dean Winchester had grown accustomed to the comings and goings of angels. He'd only met four, and half of them were jackasses.

The first one was dead, and good riddance.

The second one was missing with orders to be killed on sight, simply because she disobeyed an order.

The third was something of a megalomaniac who smiled too much, and that just seemed wrong.

And the last, also Dean's first, seemed to be trying his best to help, although Dean still thought he could be doing more, regardless of the chain of command.

Dean hadn't really liked Castiel in the beginning, what with the showing up, and ordering around, and _God has a plan_, but the guy had pulled him from Hell. He owed him something. And slowly, Cas had become a sort of welcome distraction. Because so much of Dean's life was taken up by Sam, and save Sam, and watch Sam and make sure Sam's not going dark side.

Castiel wasn't a great distraction, more often than not he brought more bad news and more cryptic orders; but he had a welcoming presence. That's really what Dean had started craving. Just the feeling of being welcome, of being wanted. Because he didn't get any of that from Sam, not any more. And it was hard to keep going when no one wanted or needed you and _you didn't even want to be you_.

As much as it hurt him to think it, Castiel was probably about the best thing he had going for him at the moment; and not just because Castiel was his best shot at saving Sam or made him feel wanted. Castiel was constant, something Dean sorely missed in his life.

Castiel could be counted on. Castiel would put himself out there in an attempt to help. Castiel would fight.

It was nice to know there'd be someone there to watch his back, because he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep turning around, waiting to see if Sam was standing there in a less than friendly manner.

Sam tapped on his window. He hadn't realized he'd parked the car and his brother had exited, waited and called to him and then walked to Dean's side of the car.

Dean looked out the window, nodded and smiled and exited the car.

Sam looked at him oddly. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He pushed past his brother, glancing back at him. "Seriously. I just wanna sleep." They were about fifteen hours from Chuck and Archangels and Lilith. They'd gotten a room, gone for food and now he just wanted a hot shower, some shut eye and maybe some angelic company to calm his nerves.

He opened the door to their room, and lo and behold, there was that distinctly angelic presence. But it wasn't the one he was hoping for.

In the center of their room stood an older man, maybe late forties, early fifties but still fit. His hair was brown and dusted with white, his eyes were gray and he wore a dark green polo shirt tucked into his dress khakis. His hands were clasped in front of him and his lips were twisted up into a little smirk.

"Dean Winchester," he said with a smile.

"Ugh," was the only response Dean could muster and his shoulders slumped as he walked into the room. Sam squeezed in behind him, closing the door and looking cautiously at the Being before them. "Why don't you just leave a message with my secretary, huh?" he said, hooking a thumb in Sam's direction. Sam glared at him. Why did God keep doing this to him? Couldn't he get just five minutes before God needed him for something else?

"Cute," the angel said, stepping forward and offering a hand. "I'm told it's your custom."

Dean eyed the hand and raised an eyebrow. Dean hadn't even shook Cas' hand. "I don't know you."

The man cocked his head to the side. It reminded Dean of Castiel. "Is this not a form of introduction?"

"What do you want?" Dean asked. He wanted to ask where Castiel was, but held back.

"Hmmm," was all the angel said before his gray eyes squinted at Dean, like he was taking Dean's measure. Then he turned his back and proceeded to look around the hotel room.

Dean looked at Sam again. His brother's lips were tight (angels were a touchy subject all around) and his head did one of those quick, hard jerks to the side that meant Sam had no idea what was going on, but he wasn't ready to say anything to provoke the angel either.

Screw that. "What the hell do you want?" Dean asked again, harsher this time.

The man turned. "My name is Micah."

"That's great." Dean replied with a harsh smile. "Not what I asked." He found his tolerance for any angel that wasn't Castiel to be running pretty thin these days. After Uriel - who he hadn't liked to begin with - and then Zachariah, and come on, _that _angel was higher up the food chain then Cas? Really?

"I'm here to guide you, Dean."

"Isn't that Cas' job?"

Apparently the angels tolerance for Dean was running thin these days too, because the man's eyes hardened as he replied, "_Castiel_ is no longer available for this post."

He thought his heart stopped, or at least skipped several, painful beats. He saw Sam stiffen up from the corner of his eye, but he didn't want to look away and give this jerk a chance to flap his wings and get gone. "W-what?"

"Castiel is no longer available for this post."

Dean wanted to be angry, to yell, but he was scared it would do nothing but prompt the angel to leave. He had to stay calm, and fuck, he'd have to be nice if he wanted to know what happened to Cas.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Dean asked, worried, because it sounded bad. Dean didn't know what Cas did when he wasn't hanging around the Winchesters, but he doubted it was all heavenly tea-parties and keggers at Christ's house. It sounded to Dean like Cas was hurt, badly, or worse - he was dead. He knew angels could be killed and he knew there were angels out there who thought like Uriel had. God, what had Cas said they did with Lucifer's sword?

Micah sighed, and actually rolled his eyes, which actually pissed Dean off. This wasn't a joke to Dean and he didn't appreciate the attitude. He took a mental step back, because shit, Cas' early intolerance for Dean's attitude made sense now.

"It means what it means Dean."

"Is he dead?" Dean ground out. Vague must be a raging disease in Heaven.

Micah laughed, "No." He blinked slowly, taking up his earlier stance. "I am now to act as your liaison with Heaven."

Dean shook his head. No, this wasn't right. Castiel had spent all this time on Dean, pulling him out of the Pit, getting him to believe, to put some semblance of self worth into him, getting him to pray and accept what needed to be done. There was just no way Castiel would bail on him, leave him with this joker and his snide little smile.

Cas just wouldn't betray him like that.

"Where is he?" Dean asked flatly.

"Home."

"Why?"

This time the man's head shifted back as a laugh bubbled out of his throat, and Dean just really wanted to punch him right in his stupid, bobbing adams apple, "Come now, Dean." Micah replied, "You didn't think he could stay? With the way things were progressing?"

Dean felt his brows come together, "He didn't do anything wrong."

"But he was _thinking _it."

"Dean," Sam asked from behind. "What's going on?"

Dean held a hand out, silencing his brother. Micah continued, "He was starting to _feel_ it Dean. Castiel cares deeply, he's extremely devout. We had hoped Castiel would be good for you, change you for the better. But you… we hadn't foreseen the effects _you _would have on _him_."

"So you just take him away from me?" He took a step towards the angel. "Huh, give him some time to 'get better', cause good angels don't think, right? They can't like people, they can't actually do anything that might be considered helpful!"

Gray eyes darted to the side, like they needed to think about the answer. Micah came back with a curt, "Yes and no. We didn't, as you so finely put it, _take him away_, but he does need time to recover. We can feel Dean, and we can make choices, but these are things we must use with caution. Too much can… well, the results are unfavorable."

Dean felt like slamming his fist into something. "He didn't do anything!"

"He allowed you to knowingly endanger a Prophet."

"Nothing was going to happen to-"

"That is irrelevant," the angel cut Dean off, his voice hard. "Castiel had been previously warned to mind himself when in your presence. He will be dealt with accordingly."

Dean guessed that Micah thought that that would be the end of that conversation, but Dean wasn't quite finished. "What the fuck does that mean?" He took another involuntary step forward and he felt Sam shift behind him. The air in the room had changed completely in the last ten seconds.

It had become entirely hostile. There was no room for niceties or for even trying to pretend to be calm and controlled. Dean wasn't scared of angels, he knew what they could do, sure, but he knew that he was needed too. And he'd be more damned than he already was if he was just going to sit back and take _this _on top of all the other crap he was being dealt.

The angel straightened his vessel, the man was only an inch or two taller than Dean, but it didn't matter. His eyes locked on to the cold gray of Micah's and Dean really, really wanted to shove a finger into the man's chest.

"What did they do to him?"

Micah ignored him. "There is a seal-"

Dean snapped. He was tired of being ignored and pushed around like a pawn. They couldn't just take Cas away from him, it was bullshit. He felt the fabric of the Micah's polo twist in his fingers, and just as quickly felt it ripped away. He thought he heard Sam shout his name, and then he found himself on his back, blinking white spots from his eyes and maybe something a bit warmer and wetter.

Sam was at his side, a hand on his shoulder, a hand over Castiel's mark.

The dusty haired Micah stepped closer to the brothers, looking none the worse for wear. "Castiel may have accepted your insolence. I will not."

Micah had started talking about the seal again as Dean shrugged Sam off and rubbed a hand over the scar himself. He got to his feet and went straight back to his earlier position; nose to nose with the angel, and stated, clear and hard, "No."

Gray eyes blinked back, slow and hard. "You can't possibly…help him. His current situation is directly caused by you."

"I don't have to do anything." Eyebrows shot up over hazel eyes. "Get it?"

Micah's lips pressed into a hard line. The fact wasn't lost on Dean that he had uttered exactly this same sentiment to Castiel not a day ago. He momentarily wondered how long he could go on using the threat of inaction before God would just tell them to find someone else. He wondered _if _that could happen. He sort of doubted it, what with the _he who broke it_ deal.

Another thought struck Dean: he was needed. Maybe not in the manner he wanted, or by the people he really wanted, but he was needed. And twice now he had used that need against the people who had asked for it.

But he couldn't just sit back and take it anymore. He couldn't, it wasn't fair! All he wanted was to keep Sammy safe and to just _have_ the one fucking angel he'd come to depend on. The one he actually trusted.

"Dean, this seal-"

"Oh, JESUS. FUCKING. CHRIST!" Dean shouted. The words just spilled off his tongue. He hadn't meant to say such a horribly blasphemous thing to an angel. He never would have said it in front of Cas, but there it was all the same.

Micah seemed to grow a foot in height. The room rocked and there was a flash of light and a hint of wings. Dean had probably just crossed a line, but he'd gotten a reaction he'd never gotten before, not from any of the other angels. He'd pissed Micah off.

The anger swirling around the angel was palpable, hard and smothering. Sam took a step back, and even though he didn't want to, Dean did as well.

The gray of Micah's eyes seemed to have turned to molten lead. "Dean Winchester, never shall you use the Lord's name in such a manner. Such an act of disrespect would be reprimanded in a way that you would surely find very… _unpleasant_."

Dean was so angry he could feel every muscle in his body twitching, aching to spring into action and take out the threat. "Fine then. Fuck _you_."

The Impala's keys were still in his hand, so he turned his back on the angel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam was next to him a flash. "Dean, whoa, come on."

He grabbed at Dean's arm, trying to stop him. Dean spun away from him, growling, "Get off me." He made it to his car, and opened the door before Sam spoke again.

Sam was still standing where Dean had twisted out of his grip. He looked confused, "Dean what the hell is going on?"

"You heard him." Dean slammed the door closed. "Cas is gone, Sam. He's in it real deep with the Man upstairs because of me."

"Dean, I don't…" Sam trailed off, struggling for words. Dean looked at him, waiting for him to speak, daring him to say what Dean knew he was about to. "It can't be your fault." he finished.

And if Dean thought about it, it wasn't his fault, not really. He hadn't wanted to _need _the angel. He hadn't wanted anything to do with any of it. He wanted out, he wanted…he just wanted things to be the way they used to be. But he'd been backed into a corner, and he didn't have any one else to turn to.

When Dean woke up in the night, sweaty with nightmares of Hell, Sam was no where to be seen. Sam told him he was weak and holding him back, and Dean would still go above and beyond to save the kid. That's what had happened. He'd been desperate, again, to save his brother. Sam hadn't left him any options, he wouldn't run, and he wouldn't hear reason. He'd left Dean no choice but to threaten Castiel with inaction.

And that threat had resulted in Castiel's replacement.

Dean was still looking at Sam. "It's your fault," he whispered. Then louder, "It's _your_ fault."

Sam's head rocked back like he was recoiling from a physical hit.

If Sam would have just been his brother for five minutes, stowed the lies and just _been_ there, then that would have been Cas waiting in their hotel room. Dean wouldn't have needed Cas the way he had, wouldn't have threatened Cas, and Cas wouldn't have been in trouble.

He opened the car door, got in and swinging it closed again, he said, "Don't follow me."

* * *

TBC

Oooooh... haha, replies are like Jensen and Misha to me. =) Which is code for totally awesome and fully appreciated. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

_Castiel sat hunched on a park bench._

_The sun shone down, children played, and everything was as it should be._

_The Prophet was safe, Sam was safe, _Dean_ was safe. For now, of course. Dean was never safe for any longer than it took to drive to a new town._

"_Castiel."_

_Castiel's head sunk lower, chin to chest. He thought he'd have at least a little more time. He should have known that that wouldn't be the case. He'd been loose in following his orders. He'd begun to question, to go against, to… circumvent the rules. His brothers and sisters would have been told to act quickly, lest he be lost._

"_I am..," he trailed off. Sorry wasn't what he was. Dean had needed him, prayed for him, and Castiel could not truly believe that his Father would have wanted him to allow Dean to walk away. _

_Dean would not fight without Sam. Castiel hadn't needed to hear the words to know their truth._

_He wasn't sorry, he was…_

"_Disappointed," he finally said, lifting his gaze to the angel at his side._

_Zachariah placed a hand on the shoulder of Castiel's vessel. "We all are." Zachariah's hand gave a reassuring squeeze. "You couldn't have foreseen his effect on you."_

_But that wasn't what Castiel meant._

* * *

TBC...

**a/n**: It's 4/14 and I wanted to have my next chapter up by today, but it took me longer to write then I thought it would. I had to rewrite a couple big chunks. So, my beta is going over it, and hopefully I will get it up within the next couple days. By which I mean hopefully tomorrow. Wouldn't that be swell?

Leave a review, their super nice and inspiring. =)


	3. Chapter 3

He hadn't meant to come to a church. It was really the last place he wanted to be. Well, second to last.

Dean had left the motel with the intention of driving to calm his nerves. He didn't think driving around would make Cas show up, but maybe he could calm down enough to think straight, and to form some kind of game plan to get Cas back.

He felt a headache building behind his eyes and wanted nothing more than to scrub a hand across his face; except he couldn't make his fingers uncurl from the steering wheel. His knuckles were white and almost painful as he replayed the conversation he'd just had.

Cas was out. Done. Gone.

Then he'd driven past a church, and he didn't know why, but it made had sense to go there.

Tall stained glassed windows depicting long dead Saints and unrealistic angels lined the sides, and three sets of wooden double doors were pushed back in sandy brick. The steeple was topped with a great wide cross, and it was gold, of course. God had to have the best.

He'd made the first u-turn he was able to, and brought the Impala to a halt before the church. He sat and stared at the building, at God's home on Earth.

God was supposed to be in there. Just hanging out, listening in on people's wants and needs, and doing what about them? Nothing. He never did anything about them. In Dean's experience, God listened to what you wanted and then gave you the opposite, probably just to see what would happen.

Now it felt like God was just being spiteful. Taking away more and more, and saying _deal with it_.

He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel once before he got out of the car and made his way to the doors on the far left.

Dean Winchester wanted his angel back and he knew exactly which buttons to push to try and get him. But could he really do that again? What would Cas say if he came back? _What the hell, Dean? I'm gone five minutes and the world's practically burning. _Dean knew that Castiel wouldn't want him to let the world go to Hell. Not for Cas, not for Sam, not for anything. And Dean knew he couldn't, it wasn't in him to watch an entire world die because of him, and he knew Cas wouldn't want to see Dean tear himself apart on the angel's behalf.

The world or Cas? What would the angel do?

A bitter laugh escaped Dean as he pulled the heavy wooden door open. Cas would do what he was told. He'd stick with the mission. Cas was a better solider than Dean ever was.

But Dean was done with all that. He'd been the good son, _been_ the good solider his whole life. He'd gone along with God's plans, rolled with the punches, and taken the losses. He'd done what was asked and would do what he could. But he was his own man now, and he was getting at least one thing he wanted.

His first step into the church faltered. He wasn't sure what to do, he didn't really have a plan, and he wasn't sure that any of it would make a difference. God was absolute, right? Micah had seemed so confident, so unmovable, and so… permanent.

Dean felt a lick of anger shoot through him at the thought of Micah. At the thought of him being permanent.

It was just too much, too soon. Everything was piling up and weighing him down - Cas was the only level head he'd had left, except for Bobby. And Dean just couldn't talk to Bobby about the apocalypse. About Sam.

Sam. His face was burned into Dean's mind. The shock he'd expressed at Dean's words, like he hadn't seen it coming. Which was another thing that bothered Dean. Sam wasn't paying any attention to anything these days. Unless Sam himself was directly affected by whatever was immediately going on, it seemed like Sam thought it wasn't worth noting.

Sam hadn't seen Dean's need for a friend, a brother. Sam hadn't seen Dean turning to Castiel more and more for words of advice and comfort. Sam hadn't seen the toll his recklessness had taken on their relationship, and now on Dean's relationship with Cas. Not until it was too late, and Cas was gone.

And Dean had meant what he said. It was Sam's fault. The lies, Ruby, the powers… He'd just wanted his brother, that's all. But Sam had denied him, and God had sent him an angel.

But now Dean was alone again.

He wandered through the church foyer. There were bulletin boards plastered with flyers for choir practice, children's liturgy, softball and schedules for special masses and prayers in the sanctuary. Dean looked at them as he dragged a hand along the boards, knocking push pins loose and letting papers drop to the ground.

Inside there were three more sets of double doors. These ones had fancy, fogged over glass windows. God must not want outsiders to see what He's doing inside. He was a sneaky bastard, that God.

Dean pushed through the center set of doors and breezed past the confessional booths. He paused before a pedestal holding a small bowl of holy water. He dipped his fingers into the liquid, and thought about crossing himself, just out of spite.

Instead he flicked the water onto the seat of the closest pew. He didn't want God's blessing. God could kiss his ass.

The pews were dotted with hymnal books. Dean knew he was behaving like a child who'd been told no, which he kind of was, but he didn't care. He pushed some of the books onto the ground.

The church was empty. Dean _felt_ rather than heard the loneliness of his echo as his boots clomped along red, white and black tiles.

He walked towards the altar, which was set back in the church. There was a large marble, Romanesque façade packed full of flowers and candles with a golden tabernacle curtained in white in the center. More gold, shocking. It was all very showy.

Dean thought it looked pompous. He didn't get people who put all their eggs in one basket like that. God will save me. God will protect me. God is good, God is great…

God drowned the entire world because He got pissed off. What's so great about that?

There was a table in the center of the altar, decked in a white cloth, framed in purple. The table had a golden book rest where the Priest no doubt laid his big, fat, probably gilded bible.

On either side of the altar were alcoves, a statue in each. A woman, bathed in blue holding a kid with outstretched arms, candles around her feet, and a rack of _light-for-25 cents _candles before her; because God needs the extra change. The other side was the same, except it held a statue of a full grown, manly Jesus, arms out and heart bleeding like he actually gave a shit.

The scenes on the stain glass windows were easier to see from the inside. Smiling faces ringed in light, angels with wings at rest and children at their feet. Pictures of how it wasn't. Dean wished someone would show up just so he could tell them how wrong they were. He thought it would be like laughing in God's face.

The ring of his cell cut through the silence. He knew who it was before he even pulled the phone from his pocket: Sam. He thought about ignoring it, because he was still angry, but it wouldn't do to have Sam running around the town looking for him. So he flipped it open, saying, "What?"

Of course, he already knew. "Dean, I -" Sam began.

"Now's not a good time." Dean cut him off, not wanting to hear it. He continued, "Just wait at the hotel." Then he hung up.

When he looked back up from putting his phone away, he saw Micah half sitting on a short, marble railing separating the altar from where the congregation sat. Dean guessed God didn't want His holy folks mixing it up with the normals too much - had to keep 'em separate. Angels too, they must have a mile high fence keeping _them_ from people. God loved His angels too much to let them be friends with lowly humans.

Dean didn't think he and Cas were exactly friends, but the trust was there. Dean thought it was entirely possible that he was on his way to considering the angel a friend. Which was weird to say, but nice to know.

"Prayer won't bring Castiel back, Dean." Micah said from his spot. His voice bounced off the high ceilings and filled the building.

"Well, good thing I'm not praying."

Micah's lips curled into a half smile. "Petulant demands and temper tantrums will get you nowhere."

"You see me stomping my feet and crying crocodile tears?" Dean made his way to the statue of Mary and Child. He eyed it for a second before turning his body to Micah, arms crossed.

"You are wasting time, Dean. There are things to be done."

Dean nodded. He turned slightly, bending over the candles and blew. About half of them went out.

"Let me ask you something." He said, turning back towards Micah. He walked in the angel's direction. "In Heaven's rolodex, does it say 'gives a shit' next to my name?" he asked, deadpan.

"Mind your tongue."

"Or what? You'll send me back to Hell? 'Cause Cas tried that one, didn't do much for him." Dean walked past Micah. He felt the angel's eyes follow him as he made his way to the Jesus statue. He blew out some of the candles there, too. Had to be fair. "Cas didn't give you any tips before you stole his job?"

The angel sucked in a long breath. "I did not _steal_ Castiel's job, and I don't have time to explain to you decisions you can't change."

"That's fine." Dean came to stand before Micah. "Send Cas."

"Dean," Micah said. Dean felt the muscles tighten in his jaw. Micah must have infused a little angel power into his name, because it hurt his ears. There was a raw, barely contained power in the angel's voice. Dean wondered if he pushed hard enough, if the angel would let some of that power go. Maybe it'd level the church, or maybe it'd just bust Dean's ear drums. Either way it was his plan now. He was going to try and push the angel into making a move against him. Dean was going to try and get Micah fired.

If there was no more Micah, then Cas could come back.

Micah continued, "There are seals at risk. I realize you had trust in Castiel, and that perhaps you cared for him, but you cannot allow seals to be broken in an attempt to retrieve him." Cold gray eyes bored into Dean. "He would be greatly disappointed."

Dean closed his eyes, working his jaw as he tried to think of something to say. He knew Micah was right, and that Cas wouldn't be the only person he would let down if another seal was broken because of him. The weight of the first seal was enough.

"I don't have to wait for you to come to your senses, you know."

Dean's eyes popped open, and he found Micah's face instantly. Cas and Uriel had angel-napped him once, and he'd been ready to walk out then, "I'd just leave. You can't make me stay… wherever."

"You could leave. I would only take you back."

Dean looked out across the empty church. This conversation was going to quickly devolve into a yes-huh, no-huh contest. "You must like watching me walk away then, huh? I'm not _tempting _you, am I?"

Micah stepped closer to Dean, invading his personal space. "Only to teach you some manners."

"I want Castiel." Dean hated the way it sounded, the way it made him sound. Like a little kid asking for his mommy.

"Castiel is gone."

Dean's fist clenched. "Why do you keep doing that? Why do you keep talking about him like he'd dead?"

"Because," Micah replied, "as far as you should be concerned, he is. He isn't coming back for you. Castiel has been remanded to Heaven, Dean. He isn't coming back. Not ever."

"The hell he isn't." Dean shook his head as he took a step back. "Cas wouldn't just abandon me… not like that."

"He wasn't given a wealth of choices." Dean's eyes narrowed for an instant, then Micah continued, "Castiel was a great angel, Dean. You've tainted him enough." There was unmistakable anger in Micah's voice.

Dean threw his hands out in exasperation. "God… Stop fucking saying that!"

"You're in God's home, boy, show some respect."

"I didn't do shit," Dean shoved an angry finger towards the angel. "I didn't _taint_ anyone. You're all a bunch'a dicks - Cas was the only one of you that was worth a damn! You high and mighties think you can just push me around, take whatever you want from me? That I'm gonna bend over and take it? Well, I'm done playing that game. I want… Castiel... Now." His voice was low yet demanding, and his fists clenched at his sides.

"Dean, you've already caused his temptation. You seem to care for Castiel, which… was unexpected." Micah followed Dean's backwards steps. "But would you be so selfish in your need of him to cause his fall?"

"I'm not… I wouldn't do that to him." A thing like that couldn't possibly be put on Dean. Angels fell because they wanted to. Dean knew that Castiel had question, but in no way did that mean that he was on the brink of becoming something less than Holy. Cas barely put up with Dean's shit half the time. The only tempting of Castiel Dean ever may have caused was making the angel want to deck him. Or chuck him back in the pit. He didn't know what a tempted angel looked like, or what they did, but he was sure that Cas wasn't one.

Dean continued, "It's not even like that anyway. He's a good… man. Angel. He's too strong to be tempted by me." Castiel resisted Dean at just about every turn. Seriously, Dean had to pry information from him. It wasn't like Cas was walking around telling him the secrets to the universe. "And anyway I don't believe you."

A mirthless laugh rocked the church. Micah crossed his arms as he said, "You've spent time with Castiel. Surely you've seen the changes. It's as plain as the Lord's love."

Dean shook his head.

"How was Castiel when you met him? Sure. Resolute. Powerful. Things he has always been." Micah's gray haired head cocked to the side. Dean wanted to tell him not to look at him like that. "And now? Now… Castiel questions. He's unsure. He's… feeling too much. Loving things he ought not to, too much."

Dean thought back to that God forsaken factory with Alastair. Cas had said his allegiances were being questioned. That others above him thought that Dean was clouding Castiel's judgment.

"And that's a crime?" Dean spat.

"It's a path."

"To?" Dean was pretty sure he knew the answer. And some part of him knew that Micah was right. That Dean had a bad effect on the other angel, because he did see those changes. He didn't think they were bad things though, and he didn't think that Cas would fall. Not for Dean.

Micah's voice was soft but hard. "Damnation."

Dean shook his head. He didn't want to believe it. It had to be something else. "No. You're wrong. God is wrong." Castiel didn't feel like that, Cas didn't _love_ anything besides God. Castiel was just trying to do what was right; he was trying to save the world.

"God is never wrong. Now, I haven't time for this, we _must _act."

He was running out of stuff to say. He wasn't going to leave, and if they made him, he'd just take off and probably come back.

"Sanctuary!" Dean shouted, throwing his arms out. He could have laughed at the look on the angel's face. And he could have cried at the ridiculousness of his actions. He needed to speak with Cas. _God please, that can't be why…_

He closed his eyes against the prayer. He didn't want to pray, he didn't want to ask - he wanted to demand.

Micah's brows came down, his eyes narrowed so much that the gray of his irises were barely noticeable. "What?"

"Sanctuary." Dean repeated. "That means I'm safe or whatever. I said sanctuary, now I get to stay in the church, _safe _until I'm ready to leave."

"Safe?" Micah asked. Dean nodded. "In a church? From angels of the Lord?"

"I'm not leaving until I get him back." Dean took a step forward. "So stall all you want, if a seal gets broken, that's on you. Not me. I want him. Now."

"Tough."

Dean threw a punch, but the angel was already gone. Just as well, he looked down the isle towards the doors where a middle aged man and woman were coming through the door. He probably shouldn't have yelled.

~*~*~*~

Dean kept his eyes forward. He saw the elderly priest's eyes dart at him every now and again. The church was by no means full, barely half that, but the immediate area around Dean was absolutely devoid of other people. And he'd been sitting there long before the Mass had started. He had been there since before priest had arrived. Since before anyone had shown up. The couple he'd seen after Micah vanished had departed after he shot them a sheepish wave and an apology for shouting.

Then he'd taken up a seat near the back of the church and settled in.

He had his arms crossed, and his jaw set. He didn't stand, or kneel, or sing, or pray. He barely moved at all. Occasionally a muscle in his jaw or neck would flex, or he'd move his back just so to ease the pain of sitting so rigidly on a wooden pew. All that gold and they couldn't afford some fucking cushions.

He must have been sitting uncomfortably in the church for nearly a day. He meant it when he said he wasn't leaving until he spoke with Castiel. He hadn't expected to be left alone though. Dean had thought Micah would return and poof him away to where ever he was supposedly needed.

Sam had tried calling again. Dean had turned his phone off.

He almost felt like he was being ignored. He knew God had to have heard every word he and Micah shared, or at least Micah had to have gone and told someone higher up about Dean's stubbornness. And really, a part of him half expected Zachariah to show up with his patronizing smile to tell him he was being stupid. Then he'd probably spout something about destiny and blah, blah, blah…

Dean's gaze finally wavered when the stupid pipe organ started playing again. People started standing, gathering their things to leave. He watched them file out, they were laughing and shaking hands - life was normal and everything was peachy.

Clueless pawns, every last one of them.

Dean's eyes wandered to the statue of Christ. He wondered if the Man had really known what He was dying for. If He thought they were still worth it.

"Are you okay?"

Damn, Dean hated that question. But more than he hated that question, he hated that it wasn't Castiel asking it. Because he'd been there for fucking _hours_, just waiting. Didn't they get the picture?

He managed to grind out an unfriendly, "I'm fine." Apparently, that wasn't enough for the man asking the question.

Priests had that way about them. They saw a person in distress (and though Dean would never publicly use that word in relation to himself, he was, _very_, distressed) and they had to help. It was their calling.

"Are you sure, son? You've been sitting here an awful long time."

Dean glared at the priest from the corner of his eye. He took in the man's gray hair and white collar, and thought about barking out the most offensive string of curse words he could put together. He didn't feel like talking, not to a _man_ of God. And to no other angel than Cas.

He listened to the last sounds of people die away as the doors closed, and then he looked right at the priest. The man looked taken aback, and Dean figured he must really, really look pissed. He knew how he felt when he was pissed; he imagined he looked just as dangerous.

"You know, God's a real asshole." Dean put as much venom into his voice as he could manage, and continued, "And I don't need anything from you, so why don't you just get the fuck away from me."

The priest stood up, even took a step back, and Dean smirked in cold triumph. The priest was stuttering, trying to find the words. "I-I…then why have you been here all day?" he finally asked.

Then, quite possibly, the most vile thought Dean had ever had flashed through his mind. He turned back to the priest, anger and venom gone. He asked, "Do you think God loves you?" his voice was uncomfortably calm.

Gray eyebrows knitted together on the old man's face. "Of course. God loves all His children."

"Do you think," Dean asked, turning his body to the man standing at the end of the pew, "That God would give one man just one simple thing. Just one. To save one of His children?"

"Son, if you're thinking of hurting yourself…"

Dean laughed. He didn't mean to, it was just so stupid. So dumb. So ridiculous. He couldn't believe he was even thinking like this. Dean thought he must have busted a screw loose, because this? This was so not him. It was so unbelievably wrong. But he knew it would get a reaction. He was counting on it, hoping against hope that Cas would show.

Wasn't there some kind of saying about what happened when people were backed into a corner? And Dean wasn't exactly stable to begin with. God really did have a sick sense of humor.

"One angel, Padre," Dean said, tensing his body. He was insane. He was loosing it and he knew it. "Do you think He'd send an angel to stop me?" He looked right at the man. "To save you?"

The priest didn't get a chance to react. Dean shot up and out of the pew. His hand was on the man's mouth even as they tumbled back, across the small isle and onto the floor between pews.

* * *

TBC… Mmmuuuwaaahahahaha

Um… I feel… kind of dirty having written that. But I loved it. =)

Anyway, I just wanted to ask quickly that if you should choose to leave a review (which I would love you for!) that you don't mention exactly what Dean just did. I know there are people who look at reviews before they read a story, and I don't want them to know about Dean's actions before hand. I wanna shock 'em. Like I hopefully did to you. =)

Please do review though, let me know what you think.


	4. Chapter 4

_He'd told them that he should have been there to explain. To tell Dean the reasons._

_He'd told them that Dean wouldn't hear what they had to say if they sent Micah. That Dean required trust and patience and only then would he listen to what the angels had to say._

_His superiors hadn't thought that a good idea. They had told Castiel that they feared it could alter his course, that the decision had been made and there was no going back._

_He'd been tempted to watch, to see how Dean reacted, and to intercede if need be. But he understood that it was his problem, that Dean was his problem, and so he'd stayed away._

_Still, he had told them. And he'd been right._

_Dean reacted badly, they said. Dean had refused to hear the details of the work needing done, he'd left._

_He'd gone to the Lord's house and he'd made a scene. A mockery._

_Castiel could hear Micah's voice. "The boy is an idiot, Zachariah. This is clearly a ploy to-"_

_Castiel turned to look at his two brothers. Zachariah had come to him with Micah stiff as stone at his side. "He's moved to attack a priest, Castiel."_

_Castiel's eyes widened at the news. The poor reaction had been expected, but not senseless violence. His eyes narrowed at the duo, angered that they hadn't allowed him to inform Dean of the changes that were taking place. Allowed him to return the trust and respect that Dean had begun to place in him._

_"We..," Micah spoke, trailing off as his lips came together and he looked off into the distance. "Need you to speak with him," he finished._

_For the first time in hours Castiel's spirit lifted. He would get to speak with Dean, he could explain as he'd wanted to from the start. But it was a risk for Castiel. A risk that changed nothing._

_"You are only to calm him, to bring him to his senses." Zachariah said. "The decision, Castiel." _

_Castiel nodded, he knew and he didn't need constant reminding. Still, Zachariah's eyes found his and he said, in a soft voice, "It would be a terrible waste."_

* * *

TBC...

I have about half of the next chapter done, which my beta is looking over at some point today. I just can't decide if I want to give Cas back or not. I mean, I could totally keep him for myself... but I love Dean so... ah, choices, choices. =) I feel like this fic evolved and changes as I write it, so we'll see what comes, yeah?

Review please!! Concrit on anything? Likes, don't likes? Is this fic doin' it for ya? Huh? =) Haha, no, but seriously, who doesn't like reviews?

Stay tuned...


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for all the reviews. Sorry this took so long. Cas just would not speak to me. *sigh* But I can't stay mad at him, I love him. =)**

* * *

The light was there almost too quickly. He almost didn't get his eyes closed in time. Almost didn't tell the priest to keep his eyes shut at all.

He'd barely felt the words leave him before he was ripped backwards, off the man and, he assumed, across the isle. His back smashed into something hard, his head connecting a heartbeat later. He was sure he would have been seeing stars, even with his eyes closed, if the light hadn't been so damn bright.

Red and hot and angry against his eyelids.

Dean had to keep his eyes closed, he knew. He'd felt a light like this once before - sans the angry. But only once, when Anna had regained her Grace. That's what this was: the light of God, the Grace of an angel, a helping hand come to toss him back in Hell.

He felt panic spike through his entire body, through his freakin' soul. The pounding of his heart outpaced the pounding in his head. He can't go back. _He can't. _He was needed. He had a destiny.

_Please God, no. __**God**__, nonononononono…_

He fought against the light, actually threw his arms up, trying to block its advance. Trying to hold the angel back.

The light got brighter and hotter, but Dean couldn't close his eyes any tighter - it's like the angel was trying to burn his fucking eyes out. Maybe he should just open them; there was nothing in Hell he wanted to see.

_God please! Please, please, please…_

A part of Dean wanted to beg forgiveness, to ask for understanding. He just wanted Cas back.

But all he could think about was the angry light pressing in on him, about the angel that was the source of the light and how it didn't matter who it was, only that it wasn't Cas. And Hell. He swore he could smell it. The death and decay, the sulfur… the brimstone. He was already flashing back, to the rack, the demons, the suffering. He could feel the phantom pains of demons tearing at him.

The only word he could force past his lips was, "No!" It sounded raw and terrified. He _was_ absolutely terrified.

The light didn't back away, it was still all consuming, but Dean thought it felt like the angel's approach might have slowed. Dean's whole body was shaking, he could feel his arms wavering as he kept them held out before himself. His heart was beating so fast, it felt like a hammer against his lungs and he could hardly breathe from all the fear. And he knew that the wet heat in his eyes, now, was from tears.

The light didn't get any brighter, so Dean figured the angel must have come to stop. He took the opportunity to shout a rushed, "I just wanted Cas back, I wasn't going to hurt him! I just wanted Cas back..," he trailed off, his voice thick and on the brink of breaking. He couldn't go back to Hell, not like this, not for this. He wasn't really going to hurt the priest; he'd made sure he'd grabbed a hold of the man in such a way that Dean would take the brunt of their fall.

He couldn't go back! They needed him! And Sam, Sam would go postal. He'd leap off the fucking deep end - he was already teetering, for Christ's sake! They couldn't risk it. They wouldn't risk it, right?

"Micah."

A feeling of relief flooded through Dean's body at the voice. _God… thank you…_ He was so happy to hear that damn voice that he almost opened his eyes.

"His actions cannot go unpunished."

But the red against his eyelids was already fading. As the light faded so did the heat of its anger, and he could feel a stray tear sliding down his face.

"It was the actions of yourself and Zachariah that brought him to such recklessness. Would you punish him for your missteps?" That voice, the voice of an angel. Literally. But it was _him_. It was Dean's angel. Cas.

Dean let out a strangled laugh. He seriously thought he was going to all out start crying. Big, fat tears of fucking joy, because his angel was here, he wasn't going to Hell and, dude, Cas totally just told Micah what's up.

Cas continued, "He is frightened. I believe you have taught… your lesson."

Normally, Dean would have objected to being spoken about like he wasn't there, and like he was afraid. But he really had been scared shitless, still kind of was, so he kept his mouth shut.

The light finally faded, and Dean dropped his arms like they were lead weights and chanced a peek. He was looking out at the church, from the back wall, next to the fancy double doors he'd come in through. He'd been chucked across the isle and then some. Micah was standing two feet away, glowering down at him. Dean didn't have a smartass remark, didn't care either, he just wanted to see _Cas_.

He let whole body tilted to the side because he wasn't sure he could hold his it up, and he really just wanted a look. And Cas was there, just down the isle, standing closer to the priest, probably shielding the man from Micah's anger.

Cas was still the same: the same dark, unruly hair, the same bright blue eyes, with the same suit, and the same beige trench coat.

The only thing that was new was the look on the man's face. Dean wasn't sure which hurt more; the sadness on Castiel's face, or the disappointment.

He wouldn't be Dean Winchester if someone wasn't disappointed in him.

"Cas…" he whispered. Castiel looked to the side, at the ground, presumably at the priest. Dean threw out a hand, quick to explain. "He - I didn't…"

"I know," Castiel said. His eyes found Dean, and then his head followed. He started walking towards Dean, bypassing Micah, who still looked pissed. Dean couldn't help it; he felt a spark of triumph. Micah was angry as shit and Cas was here. _Cas was here!_

Cas kneeled down in front of Dean.

Dean smiled, it was weak, but it was a smile. "No note, you don't call… What's a guy to do?"

"It's good to see you too, Dean." Cas' lips actually twitched up into a sad grin as the angel extended a hand to help Dean to his feet.

~*~*~*~

Castiel took a seat in one of the center pews, left room enough for Dean to sit, but still be on the end. Dean shot a glance at Micah, who was still standing near the rear of the church, before he took a seat next to the dark haired man, and said, "Got your old body? I wasn't sure I'd recognize you."

"Dean…" Castiel drawled, "This is not the way."

Dean's head dropped. "I didn't know what else to do Cas." Dean rubbed a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his neck before continuing, "I just… Micah showed up and I didn't know why you were gone, and… man, I just wanted to beat the hell out of him."

Castiel was silent.

Dean's head picked up and he looked at the angel. "You know I wasn't… That priest, I wasn't going to..," Dean trailed off, silently finishing, _hurt him much. _He had to make that clear, he needed Cas to know that.

"Dean," Castiel said, catching Dean's eyes. "I know." Castiel continued, "He won't remember any of it."

Dean knew it wasn't really, but it almost felt like absolution. Castiel knew he hadn't meant the priest any harm, and that's all that mattered to Dean. Castiel wasn't disappointed because he _knew_.

Dean nodded, he should have known Cas would know. He'd spent time trying to make sure Dean knew he wasn't a monster, that Dean was a good person and Hell was something no one came back from unharmed (or really, just came back from). He wondered briefly what mark, if any, Hell had left on Cas. If maybe being there had jump started Cas' walk toward being a half decent angel, who tried to actually help people.

Had Hell been part of the reason Cas had to go back to Heaven? Was Hell the reason Castiel was susceptible to Dean? Or was it all Dean?

Dean bet it was all him, it was always all him.

But Micah had said Castiel wouldn't be back, ever, and here he sat - same vessel and all. "So, this is like, a test or something, right? I'm being punk'd?" Castiel's head cocked to the side, and it was clear he had no idea what that meant. "You're coming back?"

The angel sighed, and his head dipped. "God does not reward… such actions."

"What?" Dean couldn't help but smile. Cas had to be kidding. Dean had already won. "Dude, you're already here. That's… kind of the 'reward' I was going for."

"No… Dean, it isn't." Castiel's head lowered and he sighed again. "Dean… you must not allow this to make you… backtrack." Dean wasn't sure what it was, but the angel's voice sounded gruffer than normal.

"What? I don't-" Dean rubbed his hands across his face, digging at his eyes with the butt of his palms. "I've had about enough of this cryptic crap, Cas. I think you owe me a little honesty."

"It's… complicated."

"Well, I'm not five. So stop talking to me like I'm some stupid kid. You guys keep saying you need me, start acting like it." Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache on top of his head trauma. Damn, Micah had one hell of a throwing arm. He didn't want to talk to Cas like this; he didn't want to be mad at him. But he was.

Why the hell had he just vanished? Why couldn't he say he was getting into trouble, Dean would have gone to bat for him. He didn't know how, but he would have tried. At the very least he could have popped in for thirty fucking seconds to say _see ya._

This wasn't turning out to be the reunion Dean thought it would be. He wasn't sure what would happen, but he'd been hoping that Cas would just show, they'd leave together and Cas would go back to being his angel. And then, the next time God needed something, Cas would just show up like he always did, big eyes and humorless sense of humor. Because that's how it was supposed to be.

"Dean…" Dean could feel the man's eyes boring holes into the side of his head. When he finally looked at Castiel, the angel was wearing a look Dean knew well. It was his no nonsense, I-mean-this-so-don't-mess-with-me face. "You have to keep the faith you've built up. Don't allow this to diminish it."

"Cas, I prayed once, that doesn't mean I joined God's fan club." The angel didn't reply, so Dean continued, "I don't know what you're talking about. I have a head injury." He smiled.

Castiel dropped his gaze, his eyes resting somewhere on the pew next to Dean. "I'm not staying. I'm only to make you understand… _why_ I had to go." He still wasn't looking at Dean when he said, "I like you Dean."

Dean felt his eyebrows jump. His angel liked him? So, Micah had been telling the truth. Dean was why Cas was in trouble. Not because he couldn't make Dean do what was needed, not because Dean had said he wouldn't help if he didn't get what he wanted, and not because Cas had dared to indirectly save Sam, the boy with demon blood. Cas was under holy house arrest because he liked Dean.

"I genuinely… care for you."

But Dean didn't understand why that was so terrible. If he was the only one who could stop the apocalypse, and he still thought there had to be someone better qualified, then shouldn't he have someone who likes him, looking out for him? Uriel would have left him to rot a thousand times over, he was sure. Then where would God and all his groupies be? Hell is where. The best people to have looking out for you are the ones who care, the ones you matter to.

"Okay. Well, I don't get why that's so bad. I mean, liking someone is good, right? It's not like _like_… like, supposed to be a sin _like… _is it?"

"No, Dean." Dean was pretty sure he saw Castiel crack a smile. It would be his luck to get the only gay angel in Heaven. He still would have wanted him back though, and Dean was pretty sure he wasn't gay. "It's made my interactions with you… questionable. It's becoming increasingly difficult to maintain a… sure course of action when… in your presence."

So, Dean was clouding Cas' judgment, making him question. But if he thought about it, that could be considered a good thing. If Cas hadn't had questions he might not have realized what Uriel was up to. He wouldn't have gone back to check out that fucking, stupid Devil's Trap. Really, Castiel's questions kind of saved his life. Why would that be a bad thing?

Liking someone doesn't turn you into an irrational prick. Look at Uriel- he didn't like anyone, and he was the angel that went nuts.

"There are times I wish to… intervene when it's not required or within… acceptance. My superiors-" He looked up at Dean. He looked liked he was trying to find the right words. "I'm told it has been… a long time coming. I would have been replaced regardless. You have…"

"Tempted you? Micah… Micah said I tainted you."

"I'm drawn to you Dean. I am not the first. Unique and… commanding men will always draw others to them. You couldn't help it. I don't blame you." Dean leaned back in the pew, and stared forward. Cas was drawn to him? A long time coming? Dean had hardly started being nice to the man. What the fuck was Cas thinking? Why would Castiel let Dean… why would he care so much… _what the fuck_? It just didn't make any sense.

Dean wished Cas would have just popped him once, let him know that Cas was in charge and wouldn't take Dean's crap. Maybe then it would have been easier for the angel to maintain a professional relationship. Maybe if Dean would have just manned up for a minute, Cas wouldn't have had to coddle him, wouldn't have had to care what Dean was going through.

God damn it. If Sam would have just been around! None of this, _none of it_, would be happening.

Castiel continued speaking, "I fear… in my current state, that I would be unable to help you… as I should. There are things coming, Dean, that will not be easy for you."

He couldn't help it anymore. Cas wasn't the only one who'd gotten close. Cas wasn't the only one who cared what happened to the other. "All the more reason I need someone I trust at my back." He looked at the side of Castiel's head, waiting for him to speak.

It was a long moment before he did. "In a - desire - to save you pain, I could make a mistake that would likely condemn us all."

"I don't believe that."

"Your belief is not required. It changes nothing. I believe it, that is what matters." Castiel didn't look at him as he said it.

"No." Fuck that. "Look at me, look at me and say that."

Cas' eyes immediately darted up; he looked at Dean from under lowered brows. And he didn't have to speak for Dean to know he meant what he said.

He didn't want Cas to go. But if he stayed… He could fall. He might not even have that choice. If his boss' thought being near Dean was bad for Cas, and Cas said he was staying… they might just boot his ass out.

Dean needed Cas to be there. He didn't trust Micah, fuck; Micah scared the shit out of him. He didn't know how to behave around the new angel, an angel that wouldn't take his ribbing, that wouldn't cut him any slack. An angel he couldn't count on to be there. An angel he couldn't trust to want to save Sam, to even save Dean.

He was just coming to terms with the whole stopping the apocalypse thing. He was getting used to the idea of it, beginning to think that maybe he had half a chance. With Sam and Cas by his side. But if Cas left… There wouldn't be any one left he trusted. Aside from Bobby, and he refused to draw that man any more into Winchester danger than he already was.

"I can't do it, Cas. I can't." He turned away; he felt tears pricking at his eyes. "I want to, but I can't do it alone, man. I need you, and it's selfish, I know. But…"

"I've asked more of you, Dean, than you could ever ask of me." Dean thought something in Castiel's voice was asking him to ask the angel to stay. To tell him he had to.

"To risk falling, Cas? That's… I can't be responsible for that."

Castiel nodded slowly. And sadly, he said, "That is why I left."

Every muscle in Dean's body tensed. It wasn't the answer he'd been expecting. He thought he'd get some spiel about angels falling, and how it's more complicated then what Dean's assuming. That's why Cas left. Was it an offer they made him, take it or leave it, and he decided to take it? He'd made the choice. Cas had chosen to leave Dean.

Dean's shoulders rocked with a silent bitter laugh. He couldn't even get an angel that liked him to hang around.

He really was meant to be alone, wasn't he? No parents, no brother, no angel. It was Dean and the world. Dean against the demons.

How could Cas do that to him? After everything, all the stupid pep talks, the 'I believe in you', 'our fate, your hands' crap! Fucking Castiel had been playing him! Getting him revved up to stop the apocalypse then dumped him with the first angel that was available.

You don't do that to people you care about. To people you like. You don't disappear without a word and send someone in your stead. And _they _don't even have a message to deliver from you. What the fuck? What the _fuck_?

"Dean, please…" Castiel's hand moved towards Dean, like the angel was trying to comfort a grieving friend.

Dean's reaction was reflex. He smacked the hand away and pushed into the corner of the pew, trying to sink into it, saying, "What?" He stared at the angel, hoping his eyes looked hard and pissed, and not heartbroken. "You - what?"

"Dean, please…" Castiel began again, his head tilting forward and his shoulders dropping just so. It was Castiel's pleading face.

And for the first time, in a long time, Dean wanted to hit him. Instead, he gripped the lip of the pew in front of him and, shaking, let out a frustrated scream. He held on for a moment longer, knowing if he let go his arms would be shaking with hurt and betrayal. Then he rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair before he fisted them in his lap.

"I can't fucking believe you, dude!" Dean blurted. "All this time… What, was it like some game? Am I a game - is this a game to you dicks?" Dean asked. He shook his head in disgust.

He didn't look at Castiel when he started speaking. "You need to understand, Dean."

"No. No, _you _need to understand. _You guys _need _me_. Not the other way around, and I am so _sick_ of this _shit_!"

"Dean…"

Dean hated when Castiel tried to plead with him. When the angel used patience and need to try and win Dean over. When the angel just took whatever Dean dished out and waited for him to be done. He wanted Castiel to defend himself, defend his actions. Dean wanted to hear a fucking reason!

Dean's eyes darted to the statue of Jesus. He wondered how much shit he could smash before Micah jumped his ass again. Or, hell, maybe Castiel would do it. Neither angel was apparently a fan of his. What a bunch of crap. He knew life wasn't fair, it was painfully obvious in his line of work, but was it supposed to suck ass this bad?

"Are you finished?" Castiel asked. And it just pissed Dean off more.

"Screw you guys. All of you, and especially _Him._" Just like last time, Castiel's eyes narrowed when Dean spoke ill of the God. "I'm out of here."

Dean moved to get up and go, but Castiel called to him in such a way that stopped him. "Dean Winchester." His voice was overflowing with command and something… else. It was that fucking need again. Castiel always needed Dean to get it, to understand. He wanted to begrudge the angel that need, but it was something he did too. Dean always needed. Just needed. Not understanding, or acceptance, just need.

Dean turned back around and sat, facing the angel as Castiel moved closer, placing a hand on top of one of his, fingers curling around Dean's fist. Blue eyes caught and held hazel, and Dean could hear Castiel's voice in his head.

"_There is something wrong, Dean."_

Dean's eyes narrowed and his brows knit together. "Yeah, no-"

"_Do not speak."_ The command was sharp in his head, and Dean pressed his lips fucking hated angel tricks. Especially if they weren't the ones he'd gotten used to. "_Only respond verbally, when I have spoken out loud to you."_

Dean squinted at Castiel, sent a look over his shoulder at Micah and back, and then nodded.

Castiel squeezed his hand. _"There is something wrong in Heaven."_

"_So you just up and leave? You can't swing a freakin' double shift?"_ Dean thought, hoping the angel was hearing him as well.

"I can't help you in my current state, Dean. I… need time to recover myself." He blinked slowly. _"I believe the situation is too dire for such divided attentions."_

"What situ-" he stopped himself. He wasn't used to having multiple conversations at the same time. And definitely not when both conversations were with the same person. "There's nothing wrong with you," he said instead. "Dude… and I can't believe I'm saying this, but… we could…," Dean sighed and closed his eyes. "Talk about it. Work it out." He opened them. _"What the hell is going on? What situation? 'Cause the freakin' apocalypse is kind of important, too!"_

"_Lucifer's sword has gone missing." _Castiel's eyes hardened. _"I cannot allow another traitor to kill my brothers and sisters."_

Dean felt his lips part. That fucking sword was missing? Jesus… What the hell were they doing up there?Dean hadn't given a lot of thought to the types of angels meandering about the streets of heaven, but he'd have to start looking into them. Bunch'a fucking retards.

"I am sorry, Dean."

Dean jerked his hand away. "So, you just disappear? Cas, you could'a told me all this!"

Castiel sat back in the pew, folding his hands into his lap. "That was not a choice. I was to leave, or not. I wasn't allowed the time. I..," Castiel's eyes roamed the high ceilings before settling on Dean once more. "I wanted to tell you, Dean. Truly."

Dean rubbed his hands on his face again, letting them rest there, blocking the angel, the church, all of it from his view. "You're not… You're really not coming back?"

"I'm sorry."

"Ever?"

"Ever, Dean, is a long time. I don't count time in the same manner as you." Castiel ducked his head again. "I'm not confined to Heaven, just..."

Dean finished the sentence for him, "I just have a restraining order on me. Do not get within one hundred feet?"

Dean saw the corner of Castiel's lips twitch up. He knew he was having a bad affect on the angel. "Something like that." He replied.

Dean shook his head. "This isn't okay, Cas." He shook his head and pressed his back against the hard wood of the pew. "I don't like Micah." He laughed. "Why couldn't you just be a normal angel, huh? I'm not worth the trouble."

Dean couldn't figure out what it was he'd done to catch the angel's attention like that. In a way that could even remotely, _remotely _make Castiel step closer to the edge. He was just a random fucking dude. Nothing special, sure he got outta Hell, but not until after he'd screwed everyone still living _way _over. He didn't have half his shit together, he couldn't stop his brother from going ape shit crazy, and fucking around with a demon.

What was the appeal?

"You're more than worth it, Dean."

He let out a small laugh, and smiled. "That sounded kind of gay."

"Dean, do you often find yourself thinking about ho-"

"No," Dean cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Don't even finish that sentence." Dean looked over at Cas. The angel was wearing that same look he'd had when he'd told Dean about the archangel tethered to Chuck. That _look at me, I'm being slick, and oh, now I'm making a joke _look_._

Dean could see why the other angels might worry for Castiel. He seemed more humanized since their first meeting. It didn't mean Dean wanted to lose him, that he wanted to have to let him go. His one constant.

"Do you trust him?" Dean asked, shooting a look back at Micah.

Cas looked back. "I've known Micah a long time."

"But do you trust him?"

"As much as I can." Which wasn't a comfort to Dean. He let his eyes dart back and forth between the two angels for a moment. Cas was going to be out there somewhere, looking for an angel with a sword that can kill what? Other angels. And he wasn't going to have the right kind of back up. Cas was going to have to go it alone because there was no one he could really trust. Anyone could be the enemy.

He didn't want his angel doing that. If something happened to Cas… Even after all this, it would still be a blow to Dean.

"Do not worry for me, Dean. I will be fine."

"I hate when you do that."

Dean swore Cas just shrugged. "I have to speak with you about the Seal."

"No." He didn't want to hear about it from Cas if he wasn't going to be around to back Dean up. "No, I got it. I got it. I'm - I'll go. I'm going." He stood up, looking at his feet. He turned his head just enough to catch Castiel's gaze. He stood like that for a minute. It was like he thought it might be the last time, ever, that he saw this man.

He couldn't believe this. After everything, he wasn't getting Cas back. He smiled and started to leave before he started feeling any other irritating emotions. It was enough that he was disappointed as all hell, but he didn't want to let Cas seem him sad on top of it.

Dean stalked toward the doors, away from his angel. The angel he'd fucking assaulted a priest for.

The angel that would have to stay away from Dean to save himself.

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder. Cas was still there, standing in the isle, arms at his sides. His face was expressionless, but even from this distance Dean could read the sadness in Castiel's eyes. Dean didn't want to walk away from him, didn't want to have to spend the rest of the apocalypse dealing with Micah, but Cas needed time away. The angel needed to figure things out, Dean could at least understand that. And Cas definitely needed to get Lucifer's sword under fucking control.

Dean turned on his heel, and started back towards Castiel. Micah had appeared next to Castiel and he stepped closer at Dean's return. It was like Micah was trying to protect his brother from a lowly man.

As he got closer Dean sent the elder man a look and said, "Back off, jackass." He got a glower in return, and not only from Micah. Cas looked up at him from under his eye lashes, quiet exasperation. Dean came to a stop right in front of his angel. He couldn't think of Cas as anything else, and he wouldn't think of Micah like anything resembling a friend.

"You'll be around, right?" Dean asked. Castiel closed his eyes, he looked like he was about to try and explain it all to Dean again. "Not around me, but… Around."

"I will continue the fight," Castiel replied. And Dean knew that was the best he was going to get.

Dean shoved a hand out. Castiel's eyes slid down to Dean's hand and back up. Cas' whole body shifted and he took Dean's hand in his own, and shook. Dean set his lips in a hard line.

"I'm not giving up." He hoped Cas knew Dean meant he wasn't giving up on him.

Cas' eyes glittered with a smile.

~*~*~*~

Dean pushed open the door with more force than was needed, and it rebounded off the wall. Sam sprung out of his chair, but he didn't come towards Dean.

"Dean, I… Is…" Sam was straining to put a whole sentence together. Dean didn't stop moving while he waited for his brother to pull it together. "Are you okay?"

"Not really," he said, tossing his duffel onto the bed. "Pack your shit, man."

Dean started shuffling things around in his bag, running a quick inventory. It looked like everything was there. He looked at Sam, who hadn't moved. "Dude, come on. You're burnin' daylight."

"Dean, what's happening?"

He rolled his eyes, and pushed his duffel over his shoulder. Dean may be going along with everything, for now, but he was by no means okay with it. And he didn't want to talk to Sam about it. Because even given what Cas had told him, he still blamed Sam. Less, now. But still.

"Got a Seal to save." He walked out the door, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be in the car."

_

* * *

_

The end… or is it??…

No, it is. For _this _fic anyway. There will probably be a sequel at some point, so keep an eye out. Let me know what you think, please!! Reviews may possibly inspire more to do a sequal quicker!

**A/N: Oh. My. God. Did you guys see the previews for next week with Cas?! I think I had a conniption when they said Cas was sent packin'!! I was like, "It's my fic! Oh my God!". Ahhh!! I'm so excited!! =D **


End file.
